Hearts and Flowers
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Pre-series. Wee-chester. Many waters cannot quench love: rivers cannot wash it away.
1. Chapter 1

Hearts and Flowers

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Not exactly one of my fluffy pieces, but then again Valentine's Day didn't really start with roses and cupids. I hope the sentiment of the day still comes across-that love can conquer anything. Happy Valentine's Day.

"Love is the thing that makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."

-Zora Neale Hurston

Caleb Reaves was too tired to remove his muddied boots as he entered the apartment he shared with his college suitemate Oliver Havers, affectionately and aptly known as Moose . Of the two, Caleb cared more about the state of their abode, and then only enough to tidy up for the occasional visit by his father or grandfather. Mac nor Cullen were due for a visit any time soon.

The sulfur smell of eggs greeted him as he made his way into the common area, which included kitchen and living quarters. The sun was barely up, forcing its way through the drawn blinds over the windows. Caleb usually missed Moose's mega-breakfasts, finding the dirty skillet, smoothie maker and waffle iron as evidence of the feast. He'd learned quickly after his freshman year to never schedule a class before noon. Between the bountiful, willing co-eds at Auburn, keeping up with his studies, and hunting, late nights were a given.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Moose flipped a pancake, his voice booming and way too cheerful. Caleb knew the football player had been up since five, making sure to get in his carb-protein fix before heading to the weight room or practice field. "Or should I say horse? Looks like a wild bronc road you home, instead of you riding it."

"Funny." Caleb dropped his duffel in the corner, sliding out of his wet, dirt covered coat, which he tossed on one of the bar stools. Air hit his bare arms and he shivered. His body was still cold even after the hour long cab ride. The icy rain seemed to have seeped into his skin, a condition Caleb hoped a nice, long, hot shower would remedy.

"Seriously, Skid." Moose held up the spatula. "Are most rodeos an interactive all night venue?"

"Not typically." Caleb knew the rodeo was a lame ass cover story, but it was the first thing that sprung to his mind when Ian and Fisher showed up early at their door the night before, ignoring his request to meet outside. He'd been able to keep the most recent gig with the two older hunters via the phone up until that point. Fisher's typical cowboy get up and southern twang lent inspiration, and it was the one place Caleb hoped Moose, being the consummate city boy, wouldn't ask to tag along. Ian's redneck personality lent credibility to the story and curbed any desire Moose might have had to come watch a fictitious rodeo in Buford, Alabama.

"Mind you, I've never been to a rodeo, but I imagine people in the stands wouldn't get quite as dirty as you." Moose set his heaping plate of eggs, pancakes and bacon on the table, his gaze roving over Caleb again. "Maybe you should try bowling the next time your old school pals are in."

Caleb shrugged, muscles in his shoulders and upper back protesting the action. Ian, Fisher and he might have studied the art and science of hunting together, but they were never pals. "We had a few beers on the way there. The guys talked me into entering a contest." By talking, Caleb meant Ian had ordered him to do the grunt work of the gig while he and Fisher provided a distraction for their query. Digging up a grave, alone, in the middle of a torrential downpour was not what Caleb had planned when he signed on for the hunt. He shouldn't have been surprised. Hastings was a bastard and enjoyed pulling rank any chance he got.

"Like calf roping?" Moose studied him carefully, a hint of doubt and incredulity in his blue eyes. He shook his head. "I'm just not seeing that."

"Greased pig contest." Caleb felt a twinge of guilt. He started for the counter, avoiding eye contact with his friend. He had gone into college vowing not to make any personal connections, to avoid getting too entangled in the normal life Mac insisted he carry on. Moose ruined that plan. He was like a big goofy Golden Retriever.

"No way." Moose folded his massive arms over his chest. "A hot chick covered in oil, maybe, but _you_ chasing a pig?"

"I made fifty bucks." Caleb reached in his pocket pulling out a couple of folded, slightly damp bills, which he slapped on the counter top hoping to stop the twenty questions. One of Moose's downfalls was money. It made him an easy target in poker, and a sucker in most betting situation. "Half of which I will gladly give to you for a cup of coffee."

"Your wish is my command." Moose hit the timer on the coffee maker, taking the money. He grabbed a mug from the counter, tossing the previous contents in the sink before handing it to Caleb without as much as a rinse. "Even if a protein shake would probably do your sorry ass a lot better than that caffeine sludge."

Caleb sniffed the cup, deciding whatever it had held before hadn't curdled or soured. "Says the guy who's having a heart attack on a plate for breakfast."

"Dude, I'm an athlete."

"An athlete who eats the rations of a small third world country on a weekly basis." Caleb suspected most of Moose's cash went to groceries. He hovered over the coffee pot, willing it to work faster. The glorious aroma and promise of warmth tempted him to remove the glass carafe and hold his cup directly under the stream of hot brew.

"You're just jealous of my amazing physique." Moose flexed one of his arms, the material of his t-shirt bulging across his enormous girth. "Envious of my way with all the lovely ladies on campus."

"Keep on telling yourself that, Oliver." Caleb decided there was enough coffee for one cup. He snatched the pot, holding his cup under the stream while he filled it with the liquid in the carafe. "We know who sees the most action in this dynamic duo."

"Of course we do, and so does your nephew, Deuce."

"Deuce?" Caleb took a drink of the coffee, relishing in the bitter taste and warmth. He wondered if his sluggish brain had missed a crucial segue in their conversation. Moose had formed an instant kinship with Dean last year when the kid showed up unexpectedly at Auburn. He'd met Sammy the following spring at one of Dean's ballgames, and got just a big of kick out of the youngest Winchester, but as far as Caleb could remember he had not mentioned either boy lately.

"Little Dude called me last night needing some advice in the _amore_ department." Moose grabbed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and took a seat at the table.

"Dean called you?" Caleb put down the mug. Dean didn't talk to many people, especially about something as personal as his newly discovered interest in the opposite sex. He especially didn't elicit interest from anyone outside their small circle of family. "For advice about girls?"

"Well, he was looking for you, but I was able to help him out." Moose picked up a dishtowel, stuffing it in the front of his shirt like a giant bib.

"Please tell me you did not share your theories about oysters and green M&M's." Caleb leaned against the other chair, torn between taking a seat to listen to his roommate's explanation and the siren call of the hot shower.

"No way. I stuck to the basics, beginner level stuff." Moose picked up his fork and spoon, preparing for breakfast as he did for every meal, like he was about to begin an eating contest with a hefty monetary prize on the line. "The way I figure it, the kid's probably still got his training wheels on. I didn't do the deed until I was like thirteen and I consider myself exceptional."

Caleb groaned, deciding he better sit down. Dean must have been desperate to open up to Moose. "Why didn't you just have him call my cell phone?" John would kill him if Dean got any crazy ideas from his overzealous college buddies. He already had a hard enough time convincing his mentor the boys had a place in his life away from hunting.

"I did, the first two times he called. The third time I figured it must be important so, I asked if there was something I could help with. He beat around the bush for a while, but you know how charming I am." Moose bobbed his eyebrows up and down. He shoveled some eggs in his mouth, washing them down with a big gulp of OJ straight from the carton.

"You're a prince alright." There was a reason Caleb bought his own food and insisted Moose label all of his. He had not missed any calls on the gig, proving his hunch about non-existent phone service in the area he'd been working.

"It's a gift." Moose continued eating.

"So what was the problem?" Caleb took consolation in the fact if Dean was willing to share an issue with Moose, it couldn't have been life and death or hunting related.

"Flowers or candy."

"Excuse me." Caleb stifled a yawn. His lack of sleep over the last week was beginning to take a toll, especially in light of the all-nighter.

"The kid wanted to know if he should go with flowers or candy for the girl he wants to impress."

"And you're sure Deuce wasn't trying to phone prank you? Did he ask if your refrigerator was running or if you had Prince Albert in a can?" It was easier to think of Dean as a little kid than some heart-struck adolescent.

"I'm not an idiot." Moose used his fork to gesture to the wall above Caleb's head. "The question wasn't random. Check out the date, Skid."

Caleb frowned, turning to look at the calendar. Miss February was draped across the hood of a red Lamborghini wearing a white lace bra and thong. She was holding a heart shape box of spark plugs and a six pack of beer. He should have remembered considering the connection to the case he had just finished. "Valentine's Day is next week."

"Yep." Moose pointed his pancake laden fork at him. "I figured a guy with as many irons in the fire as you would have that marked as a red-letter day. You better have a direct line to Hallmark and a good florist on standby."

"Shit." Caleb rubbed his eyes. He'd forgotten about the upcoming holiday and subsequent mid-winter break from school in the wake of his latest line of nightmares and visions, which led to the hunt with Ian and Fisher. The last time he'd talked to Dean he'd mentioned a girl in his class and the party Sam's second grade class was having. "I was supposed to pick up Sammy some stuff for school."

"_Tiny_ Dude told me to remind you of Cupid duty. He said to tell you he needs the valentines by Monday. Spiderman is his number one choice. Rugrats or Jetsons will work. Absolutely no puppies or kittens unless you wanted him to get beat up, and that some kid in his class named Roger was bragging about his cards coming with suckers. Tiny Dude expects you to rise to the challenge. He suggested Yo-yos." Moose shook his head with a grin. "That kid kills me."

"Yeah, he's hilarious." Caleb knew John was on a hunt with Mac, which left Uncle Caleb to pick up the slack. He rested his aching head on the table. "So much for sleeping the whole weekend."

Moose swallowed the syrupy bite on his fork whole. "Don't forget the tulips."

"Tulips?" Caleb lifted his head. "What tulips?"

"That's the flower I told Dean to go with. Cheaper than roses and not as cliché. I explained the candy would be a waste of money, definitely the wrong way to go. I mean, hot girls don't eat that shit. And if they do, they're likely to throw it up five minutes later."

"You do realize, Dean's dealing with twelve year old girls, not the college bulimics you tend to date."

Moose looked offended. "When do you think the bad habits begin? I was trying to be helpful."

"I get that, Moose, but next time, just let the machine pick up." Caleb glanced at his watch. He had time to hit the shower, grab some Z's and still make it to Fairfax before the boys got out of school.

"Speaking of which, there were a few messages from your uncle when I got up this morning. Not Little Dude's dad, but the old, crusty guy you call Sanford." Moose nodded to the bar. "I wrote them down verbatim. His dialogue makes Coach's halftime rants sound like a pep talk from Mr. Rogers."

"Bobby." Caleb glanced at the phone. The mechanic had helped Caleb with the research for the gig, reluctantly sending Ian and Fisher for the leg work, due to having so many hunters in the field depending on him to cover the phones. The Geek Squad couldn't keep up with everyone and Bobby also worked with hunters who didn't wear rings. "What now?"

He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Moose responded. "Whatever it was, he sounded pissed. He wanted you to call him back ASAP."

Caleb frowned at the football player, who was scraping his plate for any last morsels. He had seen Moose lick a bowl clean. "Yet you started with Dean's Valentine's Day dilemma?"

"What can I say, Skid? I'm the kind of guy who likes to give the good news first." Moose stood, dumping his plate in the sink. He patted his flat stomach. "I'm going to hit the shower before I head to the gym."

Caleb waited until Moose was down the hall, taking Caleb's hopes of a long hot shower with him. He tipped his chair back on two legs, putting him in reach of the phone. He dialed Bobby's number, letting the chair come to rest on all four legs once more.

"_Singer." _

Bobby answered on the first ring, surprising Caleb that he was up at the early hour. "No Special Agent Wilcox or Detective Morley?"

"_Where the hell have you been, Junior?" _

"At a midnight rodeo in Buford, Alabama." Caleb took another drink of coffee, smirking to himself when Bobby let loose with his favorite four letter word. "Took first prize in a greased pig contest."

"_I've been trying to reach you for hours." _

"Sorry, that postage stamp sized graveyard you sent me to was on the far side of civilization." Caleb kept his voice low. "I did the work of three hunters, by the way, just in case you want to put in a good word with The Knight. I'm in line for a promotion, you know."

"_Why haven't you checked in?"_

"Because Ian was hunter in charge and it was his job to report." Caleb felt irritation worming its way through his exhaustion. He wasn't about to whine to Bobby about Ian and Fisher stranding him in Mobile after the gig. Caleb was a big boy and didn't need the older hunters running interference for him. He had managed to find his own way back to Auburn. "I just got home, man."

"_Hastings called. He said he and Fisher handled the enchantress and you had the heart." _

Caleb gritted his teeth. Of course Ian would make it sound like he and Fisher had done the hard part. Keeping the enchantress entertained was as simple as buying a beautiful woman a drink. "I kept the heart with me because you said it should go to Pastor Jim- he would have to destroy it."

"_Where's the heart now?" _

"In my duffel." Caleb glanced to where he had left his bag. If Oliver only knew that the real prize of the night had not been fifty dollars but a hundred-year-old human heart, he might not have found Caleb's life so amusing. "I placed it in the blessed box made of cocobolo wood, just like you said, which by the way was a bitch to find and…"

"_Caleb, did you take the heart from her grave?" _

"Yes. Why the hell are you yelling at me?"

"_Damn it."_

Caleb leaned forward when the mechanic let out a heavy sigh. "Bobby?"

"_That's what I was afraid of." _

"You told me to take the heart and toast whatever was left." Caleb had followed Bobby's instructions by the letter. "It was just run of the mill remains and the glass jar with the creepy well-preserved heart. I put it in the box and booked the hell out of there in case she felt what was happening and linked it to Ian and Fisher."

"_Did she?"_

"Ian said she abruptly excused herself to the ladies room. When she didn't come out, they went in after her, but she was already gone. We figured toasting her bones and putting the heart in the box took care of her." From what Caleb had read, an enchantress drew all her power from the heart of her first victim. The heart she took to the grave with her to be reborn into something much more.

"_It's not like putting a genie back in the bottle, Kid." _

"You said capturing her heart would stop the enchantress, stop the killings." Caleb hadn't had another vision. Considering he'd had one almost every night for the last week, that was saying something.

"_That's what my preliminary research eluded." _

"Preliminary research?" Caleb leaned forward, his heart picking up a notch. "I thought you were sure about this case, Bobby."

"_This ain't an exact science, Genius. There was more than one lore to wade through when dealing with an obscure entity like an enchantress. Not exactly as run of the mill as a spirit, or demon even. It's why I thought I better double check things with Rufus." _

"And?" Caleb could feel the knot of dread constrict his chest as he picked up the surge of emotion from the older hunter.

"_Turns out I was right about most of the things. The cocobolo wood secures the heart, blocks the magic from the original spell she cast. As long as it's locked up tight, she can't enchant anymore men, she can't change form, and she'll begin to lose her beauty, her youth." _

"Okay, now tell me the rest." It seemed Moose wasn't the only guy who liked to lead with the good news.

"_She has a loop hole-a way to save herself. The enchantress has twenty four hours to get her heart back-more precisely for the person who stole it to return it to her." _

"That's what's got your boxers in a bunch?" Caleb let out a breath of relief. "I'm sure as hell not going to give it back to her."

"_They don't call her an enchantress for nothing, Kid. She understands a man's weaknesses." _

"Again, not a problem." Caleb laughed. "I think I can keep my guard up for twenty-four hours, Bobby. I'm not some naïve, unsuspecting, horn dog. I don't have time for beautiful women this weekend, so there's no chance of her catching my eye and stealing my affections. Besides, I'm not exactly her type." The enchantress went after married men, or those in a committed relationship. Caleb was on the other end of the spectrum.

"_I don't think she'll capture your heart so literally." _

"What's that mean?" Caleb had been the unwilling witness to the Enchantress's work in visions. She didn't only manage to steal the men's hearts that fell for her, she tore them still beating from their chests once they proved their undying love. It didn't get much more literal than that.

"_It means she doesn't have to remove an organ to steal your heart. Think more metaphorically." _

"You're not making any sense."

"_Killing those men isn't what gives the enchantress her power, kid. It's destroying love that gives the bitch her jollies. Seduction and killing is only the opening act of her crime. She might take hearts for a hobby, but crushing them is her real aim." _

"Oh God." Caleb's pulse kicked up, his heart racing. "You don't think…"

"_Should I start tracking down Mac?"_

"No, damn it." Caleb loved his adopted father, more than he could put into words. Mackland Ames had saved his life, literally. But like Bobby had pointed out, they weren't dealing with the concrete. Mac might have rescued him from the psychiatric hospital, kept him from the clutches of Daniel Elkins, but it had been someone else who had given him that metaphorical resuscitation, restored his will to live. "We have to find the boys. We need to get to Deuce."

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Hearts and Flowers

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Thank you for the very kind reviews, and your patience. Real life interrupted my quick one-shot, turning it into a very long two chapter verse. The Great Divide will resume its regularly scheduled weekly postings after this, and then I have some present time Brotherhood stories I'm working on, unless the next holiday gets me off track.

RCJ

"_Where you find true friendship, you find true love." -anonymous_

Caleb held out hope that Bobby's new information was faulty as he broke every speed limit to get to the boys. If there was any legitimacy to the mechanic's theory, then he prayed the enchantress would need time to cultivate a plan to research her latest query. Felicity Sutton was thorough in choosing her other victims, her work as a hair stylist the perfect cover. Women talked to a beautician like men to a bartender. The enchantress undoubtedly salivated over the stories of a perfect boyfriend, the treasured husband who could do no wrong. The unsuspecting women gave Felicity all the information she needed to break their hearts, but Caleb had not met the enchantress in person. Ian was the contact, and even that was sparse.

The visions Caleb had been plagued with, and the heart sitting in his passenger's seat were his only connection to the supernatural entity. In theory, he knew it could be enough. There was a truth to that old saying about staring too long into the darkness, because the darkness could also be staring right back at you. It was entirely possible the psychic gift that had allowed Caleb to connect to Felicity Sutton and bring about her downfall, could very well have allowed the enchantress all the information needed for her to destroy Caleb Reaves.

Pastor Jim's phone call confirmed his fears. The Guardian's insistence he change course immediately and come directly to the farm took any last vestiges of his optimism. Caleb argued, would have ignored the order completely, and continued on to Fairfax even after Jim gently told him that the boys had never made it their respective schools that morning, if not for the pastor's tone. His charged emotion, more than words, told Caleb that Jim was holding something back from him-something important. He assured Caleb the complete Triad would be waiting for his arrival. They would fix this.

Bobby's car was in Jim's drive, as well as the Impala when Caleb arrived. He allowed himself a moment to pet Atticus, who crowded around his feet at the steps to the screened porch. Caleb needed to ground himself before going inside the farmhouse. Trained hunters were not open floodgates like children, but Caleb's connection to the men inside, the seriousness of the situation they were facing, overrode typical blocks. He needed to reinforce his own battered defenses before he could digest an external onslaught. His father met him at the door.

"Son, I wasn't expecting you for another hour, maybe two." Mac looked at his watch, one eyebrow twitching.

"I know some short cuts." Caleb ignored the disapproving look of a worried parent. If Mac had his way, Caleb was certain he would still not have his driver's license.

"John and I only just arrived." Mac remained blocking the doorway; his frown giving way to an expression Caleb related to the few occasions when his father had kept things from him for what he deemed was for Caleb's own good. "He's in with Bobby and Jim."

"Is he pissed at me?" Caleb wouldn't blame his mentor. John expected a lot of Caleb, but the one thing Caleb never questioned was the one directive John held above any other aspect of hunting-the order to protect Dean and Sam at all costs. He'd screwed up, however inadvertently, and would endure whatever blame John heaped out. "I should have had all the information before I went into the gig. I …"

"John's not upset with you, Caleb." Mac glanced at his hands. Caleb noticed the dishtowel with the faded yellow and purple stripes gripped in his fingers. "Jim received a package earlier today."

"What kind of package?" Caleb couldn't take his eyes off the towel, the red stains covering it. He narrowed his gaze, noting the rust like traces under his father's usually immaculate nails. "Is that blood?"

"It's not a human," Mac lifted a hand to reach out to Caleb, but seemed to think better of it. "At least, the organ's not."

Caleb didn't give his father time to explain. He stepped past the doctor into the kitchen. Bobby glanced up from the table where he and Jim were seated. John was standing by the freezer, his body tense with anger. He took a step towards Caleb, a foreign look of helplessness roiling in his dark eyes.

"Can you sense them, Junior?" Desperation threaded his voice, weakening the timbre, softening the tone in such a way that Caleb wouldn't have recognized it had he not been in sight. "Are the boys alright?"

"They're alive." It was the one certainty that allowed Caleb to cross the room and move towards the table where the familiar red and white striped box sat, pink satin ribbon and tissue discarded. A vase of orchids stood nearby. Identical gifts had been delivered to the wives or girlfriends of each one of Felicity Sutton's victims. It made sense now in light of Bobby's new revelation. The enchantress's grand finale, breaking the women's hearts by taking their men wasn't enough; she wanted to make sure they knew the separation was permanent. The flowers added insult to injury, salt to the wounds as it set the women up to believe an apology was on hand-a hope for reconciliation. He felt compelled to look inside the pretty box, his stomach turning at the gore and stench. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Your father believes it belongs to a pig." Jim picked up the lid and placed it on the box.

"They are similar in size and anatomy; both have four valves and chambers…" Mac started.

"I trust your expertise, Mackland," Jim raised his hand to interrupt The Scholar's explanation. "But I feel much better now that Caleb has confirmed the boys are still with us."

"That the same kind of box and flowers the women received, Junior?" Bobby asked.

"Yes." Caleb rubbed a hand over his mouth, the thoughts of what could have been in the box threatened to purge him of what little breakfast he'd managed on the drive. The origin of the elegant boxes was one of the ways they discovered the enchantress's identity. Felicity had ordered them from a high-end retailer in Mobile, charging it to her business account-_Tresses_. It hadn't taken them long to find out what the bereaved widows and girlfriends had in common-a miracle worker of a hair stylist. "How the hell did she know to send it here, to Jim?"

"This bitch has probably been around for a couple of centuries." John stood shoulder to shoulder with Caleb now, arms folded over his chest. Despite the calm front, Caleb could feel his mentor's turmoil and fear quaking just below the surface. "She's likely to have had run-ins with our kind. When she realized her heart had been taken, her bones toasted, it was easy to figure out."

"It's a short list." Bobby snorted. "Who else digs up a hundred year old grave to snatch a pickled organ?"

"The Guardian is known in supernatural circles." Mac looked at Jim. "It would not have been hard for her to discover your identity or locate you. She might not have been able to pinpoint the exact hunter, so she went straight to the source."

Jim ran a hand through his silver hair. "This is not the first time our enemy has found ways to breach the castle."

"I bet it's the first time they used FTD to do it."

Caleb glared at Bobby. "How do we find her?"

"She wants a meeting," John spoke up. "The note says for the hunter that stole her heart to come alone."

"That makes sense. The clock is ticking on her timeframe." Caleb would gladly give the witch what she wanted in exchange for the boys being returned safely."I'll make the drop."

"Rufus and I came up with a few ideas on how to take care of her once we have the boys back," Bobby added. "Use her strengths against her."

"As long as the new plan doesn't have a loophole." Caleb cut his gaze to the mechanic and then looked to The Guardian. "You have to let me do this, Jim."

"It's not that simple." Mackland looked at Caleb. "You haven't heard Robert's plan."

"Sounds simple to me." Caleb held his father's gaze, unwilling to back down. "She wants the heart; I'll deliver it to her. Once Dean and Sam are safe, we can deal with the rest."

"I believe your father is trying to explain that there are still things we don't know." Jim glanced from Caleb to Bobby, who shifted under The Guardian's scrutiny. "A lack of adequate information is what put us in this delicate situation. Hunters can't afford to be caught unaware."

"She has Sam and Dean. Next time she could just as easily Fed Ex one of their hearts." Caleb pointed at the box, which in all previous cases had held her victims' organs. "What else is there to know?" It was low. Caleb understood how much Jim loved Sam and Dean, but he wasn't about to let the fact that The Triad often viewed him only a level above kid status put the boys' lives in further jeopardy.

"I'll go in Junior's place." John put both his hands on the table, holding Jim's gaze. "She doesn't know what hunter took that heart. I'm The Knight and I'm willing to take any risk to get my boys back."

"She will know." Caleb faced off with his mentor. "How do you think she knew to go after Dean and Sam in the first place?"

"Your visions," Mac surmised. "She used the connection."

"What about your blocks?" John asked.

Caleb gave a slight shake of his head, hating what he viewed part disappointment, part disgust, looming in his mentor's gaze. "I can't maintain my blocks during a vision. It's a two way street and this wouldn't be the first time one of the things I've linked up with has went walking through my head, Johnny."

"A mental back track?" John growled, running a hand through his hair. "Another reason I hate the psychic shit. Even the good that comes from it has a price."

"I'm not exactly embracing it myself at the moment, man." Caleb blamed his abilities for the whole situation. If he had not connected with the enchantress in the first place, none of this would have happened. The boys would be safe. "But I can use the same tactic. I'm guessing she's counting on it."

"Reverse double back?" Bobby raised a brow.

Caleb returned his gaze to Mac. "Something like that."

RcJ*SnsnsnsN*RcJ

It hadn't been hard to find her, considering she'd left the shining psychic thread between them dangling like a trail of bread crumbs. Her signal was as strong as the tracking device John and Bobby would be using to tail Caleb at a safe distance. Caleb found touching the box with the preserved heart gave his abilities a further boost, acting like an internal navigational system. It was Mac's idea and although telemetry wasn't one of Caleb's gifts, the physical connection to the heart made what could have been an arduous task, much quicker. Considering time was a factor Caleb would have tied the organ around his neck if his dad thought it might have helped.

He'd barely crossed the North Carolina border when he picked up a strong sense from Sam and Dean; their links were a constant in his mind, brightening with the close proximity. By the time he'd reached the tree shaded drive of the antebellum mansion Caleb could clearly read their combined fear.

The large plaque at the beginning of the twisting lane claimed the stately manor beyond, Looking Glass Plantation, dated pre-Civil War era, was generously donated by the family of one time plantation owner, Phillip Edmonton. It was a national landmark now, available for tours during the day, opened for special venues at night. Caleb imagined that at nearly three A.M. in the morning, the place would only be inhabited by ghosts, one evil enchantress, and two scared boys.

Any other time the unusual French Renaissance architecture might have caught his eye, the immaculate landscaping noteworthy, even in the dead of winter with only the moon as a spotlight. The wraparound porch was typical of the time period, leading into an entranceway created to give the illusion of wealth. Caleb had a feeling that Edmonton, wealthy or not, had wanted to appear that way. He'd witnessed the effect in less affluent homes in New York. The door was unlocked, giving him access to the candle lit entrance hall which boasted high marble pillars.

"You've arrived earlier than I imagined, hunter."

Caleb gripped the box tighter, his left hand going to his gun. He tracked the voice. "You're the second person to complain about my promptness today."

"It's poor manners for a caller to show up early for a date. A woman needs time to prepare herself." The voice came from a ways off in the house.

"I apologize, but your note was short on the specifics." Caleb took his gun from its holster, despite it ineffectiveness on the witch. He moved forward. "Besides, from what I understand, time is of the essence, Cinderella."

The foyer opened into an ostentatious room with a domed ceiling where a skylight cast shades of watery blue over everything. It created a glowing effect with the flickering flames of the candles scattered about, but didn't offer much direct light. He sensed more than saw that the enchantress waited in the shadows of the grand spiral staircase. Cloaked in darkness, her soft voice and southern lilt let Caleb's imagination conjure an image of Scarlet O'Hara. He'd seen pictures of Felicity Sutton. She was beautiful, but that was where her similarity to Margaret Mitchell's heroine ended.

"Lucky for me you are an astute pursuer."

"I just followed my heart." Caleb held up the wooden box where she could see it. "Or should I say your heart."

"It's rare to find one of your kind with a gift. Frowned upon in the hunting circle, isn't it?"

Caleb crept closer to the center of the room, continuing to follow the voice. "Not when it can help put an end to something like you."

Her laughter was light and charming, as if she had just heard a joke at a cocktail party. "I'll admit I was surprised when a bunch of lowly human hunters managed to capture my heart. Then I remembered the feeling I had when I took care of those last few men, as if someone was watching over my shoulder as I did the deed. I take it, you were my peeking Tom."

"Guilty."

"Did you enjoy watching me?" The enchantress stepped into the light, beneath the glittering chandelier that hung in the center of the room. Felicity was no longer the young beauty from Ian's photographs. Her once raven black hair hung in limp silver waves, her mahogany skin now ashen and cracked like leather. Felicity's tall, lanky stature was humped and crooked with the cruelties of age. Felicity's physical transformation was startling, but Caleb had eyes only for the struggling boys in her grasp. The enchantress's gnarled hands were wrapped around Sam and Dean's necks, yellowed nails, almost claw-like rested treacherously against the vulnerable flesh of their throats. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?

"Let them go." Caleb gripped the hilt of his gun, aiming it at her forehead. He would kill her alone for cruelly duct taping the boys' hands and mouths, for the look of terror on Sam's face, the dark bruise on Dean's right cheek.

"Don't be so severe with me." Felicity tilted her head, batting her eyelashes as if she had forgotten the ravages which had befallen her. "I've been rather patient with my houseguests since picking them up this morning. A little stay in the root cellar with the rats and spiders took some of the fight out of them. It always worked for me when I was a child. The gags helped. The older one has quite the sharp tongue. Be glad we didn't take a visit to the woodshed."

"_You_ be glad." Caleb growled. The boys appeared relatively unharmed. They were dirty. He could sense they were cold, hungry. Dean was pissed, and Sammy was frightened.

"You can put your gun away. Even with my heart locked away, it will have no effect on me. I'm beyond any such Neanderthal weaponry."

Caleb kept the gun right where it was. "I've brought what you want; let the boy's go. They're no longer a part of this."

"That's where you're wrong." She stroked a hand over Dean's hair and Caleb's skin crawled. He was itching to pull the trigger, but knew better than to let the enchantress's frail human appearance lull him. "As long as I have them, we are on level ground, yes?"

"It's the age old stalemate." Felicity grinned, flashing her decayed front teeth. "We're like a couple of love birds, you and I. You hold my heart in the palm of your hands, and I hold yours. Of course as in every romance, someone always has an advantage." To prove her point she tightened her grip on the boys, eliciting a whimper from Sam. Dean struggled, mumbling heated words Caleb couldn't quite make out through the gag.

"Take it easy." Caleb was talking to Dean, but Felicity flashed him another morbid smile which he ignored, instead locking gazes with Sam. "It's going to be alright."

"With that voice and your lovely face, I'm sure you're quite accustomed to being the party with the upper hand. Women usually do exactly what you want."

"I'm sure it's nothing like the response you get from men, but then again I don't have some rotting heart cursed with a love spell tucked up under my mattress." Caleb had to stay in control of the situation, master his feelings so he could follow Bobby's plan. The mechanic said he would need to anger the witch. That wasn't a problem, but Caleb would have preferred to have Sam and Dean out of the line of fire when he did. He shook the box, hoping to stall for a little more time. "If only your many suitors could see the lovely Felicity Sutton now. I don't think any of your female clientele would have anything to worry about."

"Open the box!" Felicity hissed. "Remove my heart from the cage you've placed it in, and then you'll understand the power of my charm."

"I don't think so." Caleb gestured to the boys. "Not until you let them go. Then I'll do whatever you want."

Felicity shook her head. "Give me my heart, and I'll return yours."

"No way. I give you the heart and there's nothing to stop you from killing them."

She tilted her head coyly. "Who's to say I won't kill you all and take the heart?"

"I know the lore, sweetheart. I put the heart in the box, only I can remove it. I have to '_give_' it back to you. You can't take it-hence this little standoff. There are rules to the game." Caleb wasn't sure about the box part. The Cocobolo wood was sacred, and he doubted she could breach its barrier, but from the look on her face, Caleb was right on the money.

"A show of faith then?" Felicity released her hold on Sam's throat, roughly taking the boy by the arm. "You place the box on the ground, open it. I'll give you the little one."

"I'm guessing I open that box and you get your powers back." In fact, he was sure of it. Sealing the heart in the blessed box blocked the enchantress from the energy that fed her. In twenty four hours she would be dried up completely, dust in the wind.

"Nothing that will allow me to cause you more harm," Felicity assuaged. "I won't be able to take possession of the heart until you give it to me."

"Forgive me if I'm not inclined to believe you." Caleb snorted. "I learned from a really early age not to trust anything still walking around way after its expiration date."

"As I learned the same cold hard truth about men,-especially white men." Felicity glanced up at the spiral staircase. "In this very house, in fact. Phillip Edmonton was a hands-on kind of master. He liked to take extra good care of his house slaves whether they wanted his attention or not, especially the pretty ones like my momma. If I'm willing to concede a bit, then so should you."

"There are things innocent children should never have to witness." Caleb gleaned Felicity's thoughts, catching the images flashing through her mind as she conjured memories from her long ago past. He glanced from Dean to Sam, then back up at the enchantress. "No matter what century they live in."

"Don't feel sorry for me." The enchantress's face hardened, her eyes going to the box. "I got the last laugh. Whose heart do you think is in there? Philip Edmonton was the first to fall under my charms."

"Then he deserved what he got." It explained why Felicity brought the boys here. She had cast the original spell on this property. Caleb knelt, placing the sealed box between them. The first victim's heart was the key to the ritual that transformed Felicity. It had to be given freely without the use of magic, which meant Phillip would have had to have been completely in love with Felicity when she took his life to complete the transformation. Murder could leave a lot of unfinished business. "Not like the rest of the men, the ones you tricked with illusion and magic"

Felicity laughed, the sound far from charming and melodious now. "You're as clueless as the rest of your kind, and I mean _men_, not hunters." Felicity leaned over and placed a kiss atop Dean's blond hair. The twelve-year-old mumbled beneath his gag, squirming to get away from her. "Too bad you all can't stay pure like this one."

"You said it yourself, Felicity. " Caleb stood, leaving the box untouched. He needed to get Dean and Sam out of the line of fire. "They're not men-they're just boys. Little kids, really. They haven't even kissed a girl yet. You have no reason to hurt them."

Caleb could feel Dean's glare, the irrational wave of betrayal despite their dire situation. He just needed Felicity to take the bait. "You have the heart and me. Trust me when I say I've scorned all sorts of women in my time. I'm probably on some repeat offender list known only to The Sisterhood. I would be a jewel in your crown."

"I don't doubt that, but I don't kill to punish you ignorant, useless men." Felicity inclined her head to the box. "I quenched my thirst for revenge when I used my grandmother's spell to lock Philip's heart up in that jar for eternity."

"Then why the hell do you do it?" Caleb was losing his patience. "I appreciate a girl with a kinky fetish as much as the next adventurous guy, but you take S&M to a whole other level, bitch."

Felicity growled, her milky eyes flashing. "I _kill_ to save those foolish women from themselves! I'm doing them a favor whether they realize it or not-delivering unto them a true gift they cannot see. I set them free." Felicity shoved Sam to towards Caleb. She wrapped both her hands around Dean's chest pulling the twelve-year-old closer to her withered form. "Just like you're going to set my heart free by opening that box."

"Sammy." Caleb caught the seven-year-old as he stumbled. Sam buried his face against the older hunter, unable to use his bound arms to seek shelter in an embrace. Caleb could hear his quick breath, feel the small tremors shaking his body before he rallied and turned to face the enchantress who still held his brother. Caleb ran his hand over the little boy's hair, nudging him slightly behind him. Sam gripped the back of his jacket. "It's okay. She's not going to hurt Deuce."

"Over confidence really is unattractive." Felicity drug a jagged nail across Dean's neck, a trail of blood welling along his throat. Dean bucked against her hold. The enchantress proved her strength by drawing him closer, making Dean's rebellion look like the struggles of a sick kitten. "Open the damn box."

"Alright! Alright." Caleb holstered his gun, kneeling once more by the heart. Sam stayed close to his side as Caleb pried the lid off, glancing up at Felicity. "Just don't hurt him."

The change was instantaneous once the top was removed, like some fairy tale climax from a Disney movie. Felicity's hair reverted to a wealth of shiny black curls, framing a face that could have easily graced magazines. Her body regained its regal stature, curves filling out the clothes that were sagging. She smiled at Caleb, her teeth perfect and white. "You like what you see now?"

"Let's just say I'm getting a whole new appreciation for that old saying about beauty being skin deep." Caleb could only hope Bobby's conjecture about the silver in his ring protecting him from the enchantress's spell proved true.

"How about the one where beauty is in the eye of the beholder? I can be anything you want, Caleb. Blonde, blue eyed, brunette with hazel eyes…" She leaned down, pressing her ruby red lips close to Dean's ear. "I bet he likes red-heads. Am I right?"

"I'm not impressed, Felicity. The only thing I want to see you do is release Dean." Caleb took the glass jar from the box, standing. "I'll give you what you want."

The enchantress kept her attention on Dean, rubbing her thumb over the wound she'd caused earlier. "Never fall in love, my sweet. It can be painful. Follow in your friend Caleb's footsteps instead and keep your heart under lock and key. He's smart, you know. Look what happens when you leave something so important unguarded-it ends up in the enemy's hands and you're left at another's mercy."

"Is that what happened to your mother?" Caleb's question had the desired effect. Felicity's focus instantly flashed to him.

"Don't talk about my mother!"

"_Get ready to move, Deuce. Get Sammy, and run. Don't look back." _Caleb sent the command telepathically. He was counting on the fact the enchantress could not read thoughts unless a door was opened for her, like with the visions. He met Dean's gaze knowing his message had been received when defiance flashed in the boy's green eyes.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, hunter."

Caleb refocused on Felicity. He tapped his head, with a knowing grin. Felicity, like her unknowing clientele at the hair salon had given Caleb all the information he needed to bring about her undoing. "You said Edmonton forced his affections on your mother, but I know better. She liked the attention. She fell for the handsome, wealthy landowner. Believed the sweet nothings he whispered in her ear. She thought he might actually give up everything for her."

"Shut up." Felicity snarled, her mask of beauty momentarily shifting to something as horrifying and nasty as her true nature.

Caleb squeezed Sam's shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge towards the entranceway. "After all, she was willing to give up everything for him. Including you."

Felicity lashed out, sending Dean flying across the room to land painfully against the fireplace. Caleb barely caught Dean moving out of the corner of his eye; Sam ran to his brother's aid.

"Not by choice." Felicity's momentum took Caleb to the ground, her strength beyond what he expected. The glass jar rolled out of Caleb's hand, skittering across the floor as he tried to get her off him. "Edmonton's wife found out what her white husband was up to, why he liked spending all his time in the kitchen. She forced the sniveling coward of a man to sell my mother."

"Too bad for her she didn't see you as a threat." Caleb had really hoped the cavalry would show up before he had to test Bobby's theory. "Like mother, like daughter."

Felicity moved in a blur, her body bucking against his. For a brief moment she stilled, or maybe time slowed like it always did in moments of peril. Caleb looked up at her angelic face, lost himself in the innocent smile. Then the pain struck. Felicity's hand went through his chest like his sternum was made of cotton.

Caleb opened his eyes wide with the pain, started to gasp for breath as his chest felt like it was being ripped apart. He heard Dean yell his name and tried to focus on the boys, coming towards him.

"Stay back," he cried out, but it was weak to his ears. He repeated himself.

Caleb's head jerked back and he saw Edmonton's heart burst into flames, the jar shattering. Loud blasts echoed behind him. Bobby and John emerged in a cloud of smoke.

Felicity jerked her hand out of Caleb's chest as she roared at the two hunters.

The boys, hands still tied skidded in front of Caleb, who was taking in controlling breaths as the pain in his chest subsided and the black spots began to dissipate. He wanted to order them out of the way, grab them and get the hell out of there, but couldn't manage anything more strenuous than to blink at them.

"What's happening?" Felicity was crouched over, her pretty form evaporating once again.

Bobby fired an iron bullet, sending the enchantress flat across the floor. "Karma."

Felicity writhed, trying to get to her feet. "What have you done?" she shrieked.

"You broke the spell." Bobby kicked at the shards of glass. "You can't take a heart unless it's willingly given to you via your charms or what not. Every good enchantress knows that's the number one rule."

Caleb rubbed his sternum with a groan as John hovered at his side, huddling over the boys. He managed his first deep breath. "I sure as hell wasn't acting out of love."

"Nope." Bobby smirked at the enchantress. "At least not love for Felicity."

"You tricked me." Felicity glared at them, then to the smoldering remains of Philip's heart. "You've freed him."

"_You_ freed him." Bobby gestured behind her. "And he looks happy as a lark to be reunited."

The gruesome spirit of Phillip Edmonton reached for Felicity. She howled as his arms came around her in a crushing embrace. Both of them disappeared in a shower of dust that rained down around the hunters like confetti.

Bobby slung his shotgun over his shoulder, grinning down at Caleb. "Ah, love is definitely in the air."

Caleb kept his hand on his chest glancing up to John, who snorted, giving a shake of his head. Sam was huddled in his father's lap; Dean tucked by his side, his hand still gripping Caleb's. Caleb winked at the twelve-year-old, who let him go with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Who knew Bobby was such a romantic?"

RcJ*SnsnsnsN*RcJ

What Bobby lacked in the Valentine's Day spirit, Pastor Jim more than made up for. He quickly enlisted the boys' help the following afternoon, ensuring they had little time to think about the previous day's harrowing incident. He busied them in the kitchen baking heart shaped cookies and cutting out red construction cupids for the annual Valentine's banquet at the church. Caleb expected to find them still engrossed in busy work, but found Jim with his other project instead-Bobby Singer, A.K.A. Cupid.

"Don't you two look nice for your Valentine's date?" Caleb flashed Jim a wide grin, before glancing to the scowling mechanic. Bobby would be accompanying the pastor to the banquet. Jim could deny all he wanted that it wasn't a reprimand, but Caleb had no doubt the red sports coat and heart covered tie The Guardian insisted Bobby adorn for the festivities was definitely punishment. With Mac and John gone to cover the hunt they had abandoned that left Uncle Caleb to pick up the slack, and for once he didn't mind being resident nanny in charge. "Do I smell cologne?"

"Shut up," Bobby growled.

"The boys are in the library." Jim waved a hand to the stove. "I've left dinner warming. Try to limit the cookies before bed. It never turns out well if Samuel has consumed his weight in sugar."

"I think I've got it covered, Jim." Mac had given the boys a clean bill of health despite the few scratches and bruises Dean had acquired. The doctor prescribed a weekend of rest, an order which included Caleb, who waited until his father and John left before making his escape into New Haven to pick up the supplies he needed.

"You could always take my place, Junior and I can stay with the rugrats." Bobby ran a hand over his slicked back hair, then brought it to the knot of his tie, tugging at the confinement.

"And deny all those widows of a vision like you?" Caleb whistled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"I saved your life. You owe me."

"If I recall, you risked my life-on a theory."

Bobby took a menacing step towards him, but Jim cleared his throat. "Let's go, Robert. We don't want to miss the pictures."

Caleb evaded the swipe Bobby took at him after Jim's back was turned, locking the door behind the mechanic. He left the bag with the movies and the junk food on the table, then took the remaining sacks with him in search of Dean and Sam.

He heard the music before he saw them. Jim's old record collection was a novelty to Sam, although Caleb doubted the kid had a clue as to who half the blues artists were. He suspected it was the ancient phonograph with its scratchy nuances that fascinated the younger boy more than the actual music. Caleb pushed the door open. Atticus lifted his head from the rug. Sam was sitting at Jim's desk, and quickly rushed to cover a large piece of white drawing paper. Dean was reclined on the couch by the fireplace, his feet draped over the high back of the sofa so he was practically upside down. "What are you two up to?"

"Nothing," Sam answered quickly, dropping a red marker he was holding. "You weren't supposed to be back yet,"

"What is it with people complaining about my punctuality?" Caleb skirted around the desk, looking over Sam's shoulder. The seven-year-old twisted to cover more of his project, but Caleb caught the first few letters of his name, C-A-L.

"I think the fact no one is breaking out the welcome wagon should be a clue, Damien." Dean didn't take his eyes from the comic he was reading, but Caleb caught the smirk. "No one is every happy to see you."

"You two seemed pretty happy to see me yesterday." Caleb stopped beside the sofa, slapping Dean's dirty sneakers. The twelve-year-old looked up at him. The bruise on his cheek was an impressive mix of blue and dark purple. The white bandage Mac had taped along his jaw line where the enchantress had cut him stood out in bright contrast. It made Caleb want to kill the witch all over again. He hoped she and Phillip were having a torturous, terribly ever after.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Dean closed the comic, leaving it resting on his chest. "Besides, we knew if you were there, the real cavalry couldn't be far behind."

"Yeah. Dad never lets you handle hunts on your own," Sam chimed in, having used two of Jim's heavy tomes to cover his secret plan. "He's afraid you'll get your reckless ass killed."

"Language, Sam." Dean flashed his brother a look.

Sam frowned. "Well, that's what he says."

"Yet, he finds me quite capable of taking care of the two of you." Caleb took a seat on the couch arm by Dean.

"Dad also leaves us with Bobby," Dean deadpanned. "Don't be too flattered."

"I can't believe you put me in the same league as the junkman." Caleb shoved Dean's feet this time, knocking the boy's legs off the cushions so that he was forced to sit up or tumble off the couch backwards. "Bobby makes me look like Mother Goose."

"We like you better." Sam moved from behind the desk, making his way towards the older boys. Caleb recognized the calculating spark in his dark eyes as he stared at the bags in Caleb's hands. "Especially when you bring us stuff."

"You mean these?" Caleb lifted his loot. "What makes you think these are for you, Runt?"

"Because it's almost Valentine's Day and Dean and I are the only valentines you've got."

"I am not Damien's valentine," Dean sat up, tossing his comic on the coffee table.

"The feeling is mutual, Deuce," Caleb snorted.

"That's what the bad lady told us." Sam fidgeted with the button on his shirt sleeve, some of the enthusiasm fading under the slight slump of his shoulders. "She kept saying she had your heart, because she'd captured us."

Dean rolled his eyes, his voice softening. "How many times do I have to tell you, Sammy? She was crazy. Forget about her."

"What else did she say to you, Runt?" Caleb reached out and tugged on Sam's shirt, pulling him closer. The youngest Winchester had been clingier than usual, crying when his father had left with Mac for the hunt.

Sam shrugged. "She said you loved us the most of anybody-and that made us valuable. So as long as we did what she said, she wouldn't hurt us."

Caleb cut his gaze to Dean. "Well, she wasn't completely crazy."

"Because you do love us?" Sam was waiting. "More than anything."

Caleb floundered under the dark, solemn gaze. He shook one of the bags in front of Sam to break the little boy's spell, which held a magic all of its own. "I searched New Haven the whole wide over to find two dozen glow in the dark yo-yo's, didn't I?"

"Yes!" Sam did a little dance, all trepidation and gloom fleeing in the face of his glee. "Did you get Jetson valentines?"

"Even better." Caleb handed him the bag. "Spiderman."

"Roger is going down!" Sam whooped, clutching the bag to his chest. He started for the door. Atticus got up to follow. "I'm going to get my list so you and Dean can help me fill them out."

"Sounds like fun times." Caleb slid onto the couch beside Dean. "I so need to get a grown-up life."

"Leave it to Sammy to consider Valentine's Day a competition."

"Are you kidding me, Deuce?" Caleb shifted so he was facing Dean. "The whole holiday is about which guy can outdo the other."

"Really?" Dean looked doubtful.

"Valentines and yo-yos are only the beginning. Take _your_ present for instance."

"You got me something?"

Caleb smirked. "You are my valentine aren't you?"

"Just give me the present, dick head." Dean reached for the bag.

Caleb held it out of reach, lifting the fluffy white stuffed dog from within the bag.

Dean's expression crumbled. "Are you serious? A lame stuffed toy?" He crossed his arms instead of taking the animal. "The only thing that proves is you really do think I'm just a little kid."

"Deuce, this isn't a toy." Caleb hadn't realized the kid was still miffed over his comments to the enchantress, but it explained the cold shoulder Dean had been giving him. "This is a weapon of mass destruction. No heart of any twelve-year-old girl stands a chance against its power. I would never give this to a _kid_."

Dean shifted, looking more interested in the gift. "What are you talking about, Damien?"

"I'm talking about the little conversation you had with Moose. Forget flowers or candy. In fact, forget everything he said." Caleb shook the dog. "Check out the perfect hugging size, soft fur, prime for cuddling. The big glassy brown eyes will be sure to elicit more than a few aww's from her classmates. We can't forget the nose, precisely shaped in a pink heart." Caleb pointed to the shiny red collar where a plastic tag with X's and O's hung. "And the _**pièce de résistance**_ –the name tag is actually a tub of strawberry scented lip gloss."

Dean's eyebrow lifted, he took the dog from Caleb. "You really think Audra will like it?"

"Is Audra the twelve-year old girl you hope to impress?"

Dean hesitated for only a moment. "Yes."

"Then she will love it."

Dean put the dog back in the bag, but shifted it to his other side, out of sight. "Thanks, Damien. I appreciate it."

"No problem." Caleb relaxed against the sofa cushions, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "We guys have to look out for each other. Love is a tricky business."

"It's definitely not just a bunch of hearts and flowers." Dean relaxed beside him.

Caleb laughed, tossing his arm over the kid's shoulder. "Spoken like a smart man."

"What happened to me being a little kid?" Dean glanced up at him.

"That's a good question, Deuce." Caleb drew his arm in, effectively bringing Dean into a headlock. He nodded to Jim's desk where Sam had been diligently engrossed in his art. "It seems like only yesterday, _you _were working on secret Valentines' cards for yours truly. Where's the love now?"

Dean struggled to get out of the grip, punching Caleb in the side when nothing else worked. He scooted down to the other end of the sofa, safely out of reach. "Like that ever happened, jerk."

"Sure it did." Caleb rubbed his ribs with another laugh. He smirked at the red-faced twelve-year-old. "You made a dog out of red fu-fu hearts, wrote my name in glitter and everything. I still have it."

"How sad is that?" Dean grunted. He smoothed a hand over his mussed hair, shooting Caleb another annoyed glare. "You really do need a grownup life, man."

"I get you're not a little kid anymore, Deuce. Really, I do." Caleb raised his hands in a truce. "But that doesn't mean you don't need to cut me some slack when I on occasion still see you as that five-year-old waif who shared his M&M's with me that Christmas so long ago. Wait until Sammy starts shaving. You'll know exactly what I'm going through."

Dean held his gaze for a moment, as if he were trying to envision his little brother foamed up with razor in hand. He finally offered absolution by sliding back down the sofa to sit next to Caleb once more. "I'll try to be patient."

"That's all I ask, Kiddo." Caleb returned his arm to the back of the couch, flicking Dean's ear. "Well, and that you never go to Moose for any more advice in the _amore_ department. Leave the ladies to me."

"Don't worry." Dean gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, rubbing the ear Caleb had abused. "I knew The Incredible Hulk was way off base when he started babbling about body image and vomiting."

"Oliver and his sensitive theories." Caleb sighed. "It's a wonder he gets any action."

"Speaking of action, Damien?" Dean relaxed into the couch, glancing up at Caleb. "Do you think this whole cute puppy bit with Audra might score me some?"

"Come again?" Caleb rolled his head to meet the intrigued green gaze, worried Oliver might have indeed passed on more insight than he had let on.

"You know," Dean bobbed his eyebrows. "Like a _real_ kiss?"

Caleb laughed, tugging Dean in for another headlock that morphed into more of a side hug that the twelve-year-old didn't try to immediately evade. "With your Winchester charms, it wouldn't surprise me in the least, Kiddo."

The end


End file.
